Glass (Crank 2)

tousled bed. A soft

cloud

of pillow lures me toward

dreamless

sleep. As I sink closer to

oblivion

I breathe Trey in, desperate

inhalation.

I want him beneath my skin,

held

fast by my bones,

absorbed

by my body like

oxygen.

“Please don’t go.” A slow

exhalation.

I won’t. He is tender,

warm.

And I believe him.

But of Course

He has to go.

I wake, knowing this.

He is sitting by the bed.

“I don’t want you to go.”

I know. But I’ll be back

in a couple of weeks.

I have to think why.

Oh yes, spring break.

I talked to Brad and told

him I’m okay with you two.